Into the Fire
by ajblackout
Summary: Luke lost his brother to the games four years ago. Avis' father has estranged himself from her after winning. When the two of them are cast into the games, they both have to face their pasts and try to survive the torture known as the games. Will the two meet? Who will die? There can only be one victor.
1. Chapter 1: Luke

Chapter 1: Luke

With every day passing by Luke would become more and more nervous. There would be hours where he would just freeze and his face would get all pale. He would forget where he was. He would remember the day he lost his brother. The 44th games. The boy was just twelve. Oren Taxius. He was called up to represent district ten. Luke wanted to volunteer in his place, but his father's dark gaze held him back. He knew his father never approved of Oren. He was chirpy and feminine. He would spend much of his day with girls, acting like them. So when Oren walked forward, all Luke could do was cry.

...

Luke was sitting with a cup of milk in the corner of the market place. It wasn't much. Maybe two tablespoons. He looked up, and took in his surroundings. The sun had shifted. About three hours? _Crap_ , Luke thought. It was about six o'clock. This vision was a long one. He threw the cup onto the table he got it from, Eldry Panche's stall. He jumped over the hay bale, and ran home. He lived in a neighborhood near the end of the district. His father was a Farmer and his mother cared for the baby. She was two months old, pale, and had piercing blue eyes, just like Luke's. When he reached his front lawn, his mother was sitting out front.

"Where have you been?" She got up hurriedly, walking forward to meet him. He had to lie to her. He had never told anybody about the visions.

"I was working late. To fill my quota," Luke fibbed. That was partially true. Luke worked as a butcher's assistant. Every day, he was sent to the local ranch to get meat for the butchery. There was a lot of meat, so he would spend all day doing the chore. He quickly developed large muscles doing it.

"You spend all day at that job, and get paid close to nothing," his mother said. Her eyes were scrunched and expression stern.

"We live in a poor society,"Luke responded, "No one has the money to pay."

"The ranchers do," she said.

Luke was a mellow boy. He was not built for active, riding work. "I have a job already. If the ranchers need someone to lift cows, they can come find me."

"We need that money," his mother shifted the baby from one arm to the other, "Do whatever it takes."

Luke walked inside the house. He went to his room, and grabbed a nice shirt. It was blue, with a torn pocket on the left side. He was not staying home tonight. Tomorrow was the reaping, and his friends always spent the last night together, lest someone should get chosen for the games. He was about to leave, when it happened again. He dropped the shirt, and froze in the middle of the room.

...

Luke was standing in front of a blue door. It was old, and had the capitol insignia on it. A peacekeeper walked out. He scanned the room, then trained his eyes on young Luke. The boy was about thirteen years old. His hair was much more blonde, and the scar on his chin was much more visible.

"You," the peacekeeper said, "It's your turn." Luke looked up. The peacekeeper was talking to him. He got up and walked forward. The peacekeeper opened the door, and Luke saw Oren through the threshold. He was standing in the center of a dark room. The only light was coming from the giant window facing the district square. Behind him, there was a bookcase. On the floor, a giant carpet with the symbol of the capital in the center.

Luke ran over and hugged his brother, who was in tears. Oren sobbed for about a minute, then spoke, "Luke, I can't do this."

"Sure you can," Luke said, trying to muster up as much confidence as he could. His hands were shaking, and he had tears running down his face, barely outlining his nose.

"I can't! I'm going to die! I don't want to die!" Oren fell to the ground. He he didn't get up, and Luke bent down to help him. "Why was it my name?" He asked Luke, "Why did I have to get picked?"

"I don't know," Luke said, "Your name was in there once. This shouldn't have happened." He was getting weaker by the second. He started to fear for his brother's life. "Listen to me. Be brave. You can't die. I need you. I need you to come home."

"I can't..." Oren stuttered quietly.

"Yes you can. I need my brother. I can't live without you."

The large door creaked open once again. The same peacekeeper as before walked through. "Time's up."

Luke turned to his brother one last time, "I love you." The peacekeeper grabbed his arm and guided him out of the room. The door closed, and Luke broke into tears. He fell to the ground, just like Oren. He looked at the peacekeeper. "Please," he said through tears, "Please!" The peacekeeper grabbed Luke by the arm. Luke struggled to break free. "No!" The peacekeeper swung at Luke, and he blacked out.

...

Luke looked out the window and saw the sun had gone down. He glanced at his feet. He had dropped his shirt. Luke bent over to pick it up. He grabbed it, and went over to the window. He took one last look at the picture of Oren at the night table, and climbed out.


	2. Chapter 2: Avis

Chapter 2: Avis

Soliciting in work grounds was not allowed in district seven. it was not allowed in any district. It was considered trespassing, and it was punished by whipping. Avis did not care. Nor did any of her friends. They would spend hours at a time wandering through the large trees of the lumber forests just talking or sharing stories. Sometimes they would climb the trees and spend their time talking in the treetops. Avis liked this time. She preferred it to being home. At home, her only comfort came from a book on her windowsill. it was her drawing book. She would draw her family like she wished it was.

Avis' favorite part of her walks was always the end. She loved making it to the end because like a book, she got to see it unravel. She had made it to the end of this walk and was particularly happy. On many walks, Avis and her friends would run into peacekeepers. They would have to hide and wait for the district guards to leave before they could continue walking. On this day there were no peacekeepers in sight. She and her friends were able to walk the entire way without disruption. Avis walked home with a smile.

Avis hated home. As soon as she stepped inside, her smile disappeared. "I'm back," she said. There was no response. "I know you're here."

Avis' father looked over from his chair in the other room. He had been drinking. "Who are you?" he said.

Avis spat. She got this reaction every day. "I hate you."

"Hey," Avis' father got up, "Treat me like your father. I want respect while you are in my house."

"I would if I had a father."

Avis stormed to her room with her parent yelling behind her "You're a piece of crap! You know it!"

The girl had only grown up with one parent. From the day she was born, he would make himself a stranger. He sat in the same chair every day with a different form of alcohol as entertainment. When Avis went through school, she never saw her father do more than drink, sit, and yell. She dropped out when she was twelve to get a job. They could not lose their house but if her father died, she would be on the streets without the money. Because of this, she became a carpenter's assistant.

Avis' father had estranged himself from her for a single reason. he had no will to live. Sixteen years ago, the year Avis was born, he was selected to participate in the games. No one volunteered for him even though he had a newborn child. He went into the games at age eighteen and survived, going home to raise his daughter. He never raised her, however. The games had scarred him for life. He had witnessed so much death that he gave up on life, and he resorted to drinking.

Avis took her book off of the windowsill. She opened it to a blank page and drew. The drawing started off with a straight line. It went down the center of the paper. Then it curved. It became an arm. She was drawing her father. He was a lumberjack. He had large muscles, and was wearing a wool knit cap. It protected him from falling twigs and sawdust. He had an axe in his arms, as though he was ready to swing and cut down the next tree. She erased the axe. She instead drew a hammer. She was very talented with hammers. She would use them every day at work. She chose this as her father's accessory because of its importance to her. Realizing what she drew, a connection to her father, she closed the book and put it back. It was late, and her mind was not in place to draw.

...

Avis dreamed she was in a grassy field. It was nighttime. A boy was running next to her.

"Come on," he said, "She's behind us!"

Avis began to run. As though it was out of her control, she spoke. "How much longer?"

"Only about thirty seconds. There's a river we can hide in until she passes through."

Avis looked behind her. There was brush rustling. Someone was indeed following them. Avis slowed down. The boy turned. "Hurry!"

Suddenly, a girl jumped from the brush. She sent a spear hurtling towards Avis' chest at full speed. "Daddy!" Avis screamed to the boy. She was in the Hunger Games. The spear impaled her. Blood poured from her chest. The boy took one last look at Avis, and disappeared into the trees ahead. The last thing Avis heard was a cannon.

...

Avis sat up in bed swiftly. She was soaked in sweat from head to toe. Breathing heavily, she got up. She walked over to the door, and creaked it open. There was glass strewn all about the hall. In the corner, her father was unconscious. He was sitting in a puddle of what seemed to be whiskey. Avis sighed, and went to her father to help him up.


End file.
